Travel

On vacation, a mind is a terrible thing to worry BY BILL DUNN | REPUBLICAN-AMERICAN

BONITA BEACH, FLA. — The white sand feels soft between my toes. It quickly sticks to the sunblock slathered on the tops of my feet. I've learned the hard way over the years that there is nothing more painful than a wicked sunburn on the tops of your feet. And as someone whose skin starts to turn pink when I get too close to a 60-watt light bulb, I'm taking no chances.

South Florida in January is awesome. I'm actually feeling a bit sorry for my friends and relatives back in Connecticut, where the temperature at 6 a.m. this morning was exactly zero, and the afternoon high isn't expected to top 15 degrees.

The frigid tundra my wife and I left behind in New England is being pushed further and further to the back of my mind. The only thing that matters now is this gorgeous present moment and this sun-soaked present location. Ahh, this is what a vacation is all about.

Then, just as I'm about to become one with my surrounding environment; just as I'm about to enter into a state of relaxation I have not experienced in years, way in the back of my mind, next to where the zero degree data byte has been pushed, a single brain cell raises its hand and says, "Hey, what if the furnace stops running?"

In the front of my mind, where 99-percent of my awareness is basking in the warm breeze and focusing on not focusing on anything at all, a different brain cell replies, "Excuse me?"

The brain cell in the back of my mind repeats, "What if the furnace stops running? I don't want to alarm you, of course, but with the cold wave in Connecticut this week, I was just wondering if the furnace stops running for whatever reason, what will happen to all the pipes in the house?"

Now the front of my mind completely changes its focus. No longer is 99-percent of my awareness working hard at being unaware. Now 100-percent of my mind is creatively conjuring up frightening images of burst pipes and water damage and cranky insurance adjusters and five-figure estimates from plumbing contractors to repair the mess.

"Dammit!" the front of my mind mutters, "Why'd you hafta say that?"

The back of my mind replies innocently, "Sorry, I was just trying to help."

So for the rest of the week, throughout all the beaching and boating and golfing and eating and pooling and lounging, the back of my mind periodically says, "So, uh, whataya think? Will the furnace be all right?"

And each time the front of my mind shouts, "Stop saying that! There's nothing we can do about it now, so stop ruining this vacation!"

"Fine," the back of my mind says, then adds sarcastically, "Yeah, the furnace is only 50 years old. What could possibly go wrong?"

TORRINGTON — After driving home from the airport we pull into the driveway for the first time in eight days. It is 19 degrees outside. I pray it is not also 19 degrees inside. With my heart pounding, I rush into the basement, where I find the 50-year-old furnace chugging away, generating heat and pumping warmth throughout the house. All the pipes are intact. I fall to my knees and hug the trusty old appliance. The front of my mind says, "Ouch, that's hot!"

The back of my mind says, "You just burned your cheek. You should've used sunblock."

Then, offering what is surely NOT the last word in this never-ending contentious dialogue, the front of my mind looks rearward and says, "Oh shut up!"

Bill Dunn is a freelance writer who resides in Torrington. He can be reached via his website at: www.boomertrek.com.

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